


When Blue Meets Red Meets Blue

by Nanimok



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mermaid!Tobirama, Trust me guys there's fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/pseuds/Nanimok
Summary: Just your usual boy meets mermaid tale.





	When Blue Meets Red Meets Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_Hot_Holly_Berries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Hot_Holly_Berries/gifts).



> For our resident Dragon Queen and Koi Goddess Holly, her beta-ing skills, her bewitching head canons, and her beautiful art that’s coming our way. Inspired by her headcanon here ([x](http://redhothollyberries.tumblr.com/post/156526381399/god-but-i-want-to-draw-and-write-something-about))

Tobirama remembers a time when great beasts flew in the sky to disrupt the calmness that engulfs him.

Lithe bodies spanned the sky, the force of their flight tickling his hairs when he dares to venture above the surface. It would always be worth it; to see their iridescent scales, darker than his own, breathing in the daylight and shimmering with the undulations of their leathered tails and necks. Trailing behind them, like an entity of their own, are long wisps of whiskers, shaping their path for all to admire.

And when they breathe their ire, the sky glows with their wrath. Tobirama had no name for it, only a bated breath. The heat would travel with the waves, and touch his soaked skin. It would be years later that the reverent whispers piercing the murky depths of his home would give acknowledgement of these divine creatures.

_Dragons._

Tobirama is tranquillity embodied in all its glories and its curses. A still gradient ranging from the shallows pierced by blades of light to the darkness that skims the core of their land. Tobirama is serenity incarnate, a frozen line that has never bent high enough or low enough to taste the heady relief of catharsis. Trouble won’t touch him, excitement won’t find him, and he’s never ventured at the right time to earn the privilege of meeting a storm. The silence of the deep sea is his only constant companion.

Despite that, he closes his eyes and sketches the sky with the same glow that he saw from long ago. Time hums on and he refuses to forget.

Then he meets a boy.

A boy who dives into his merciless home to capture a brother lost to him. A small cretin against the endless sea, gasping and reaching with small hands for another body that’s jerking and clawing at his own throat. Their hands strain to grasp each other.

The boy struggles, but his intent does not falter. Tobirama can see that glint in his eye, burning impossibly bright like a little koi fish swimming against the current of the Yellow River.

Tobirama tilts his head. He has perseverance, one that will be wasted in his home.

With a billow of his tail, he surges forwards, jerking the boys in surprise. He sweeps them into his arms – tiny critters compared to the creatures that lurks under – and swims towards the aimless boat floating on the surface.

Once their heads break the sea level, Tobirama is gone. At least from their sight.

Down below, he watches them scramble onto their tiny boat and closes his eyes, sketching behind his eyelids the glimmering intent of the boy that dared to dive into the sea.

 

* * *

 

The boy comes again and again. Day after day he rows to where Tobirama found them and waits until the sun sinks into the ocean before rowing back to shore.

Waiting for him, he realises while curiosity lingers in his belly, now why would such a cretin do that?

One day, he breaks the surface and startles the boy. Their eyes meet. Moments pass where there’s nothing between them but the humming sea singings its peaceful lullabies. The boy then breathes in, and garbles.

Not a garble, Tobirama realises, but coordinated speech. A pattern exists. The boy communicates through speech.

He chooses which words to remember and which words to forget. _Thank you,_ he remembers the boy saying, flapping his arms everywhere. He points to himself, garbles again, and Tobirama wisely picks up the word he repeats over and over, with heated insistence and the familiar glint in his eyes. _Madara._

Tobirama stares. Then he tilts his head, and repeats in his head, careful in his lilt and intonation, _Madara._

Madara jolts back, rocking the boat in the process and grips the edges in an effort to stop tipping over. Chest heaving, his eyes roam all around them, before realising that it’s only them within the near vicinity and nods furiously while repeating his name. His speech warps, gesturing back to the shore, and Tobirama understands that the boy needs to go back.

He submerges himself back into the ocean, feeling the cool water hug his whole body long before the boy paddles himself back to shore. This time, instead of dragons twisting through the sky, he pictures a spiky-haired boy on a rocking boat when he closes his eyes.

The sound rings through his head. _Madara._

 

* * *

 

Tobirama is as constant as the still sea. For as long as he can remember, he simply existed.

Madara shifts and changes in a way that never wades back, unless it’s to return to him. He comes again and comes often enough for Tobirama to start blurring the moments between his sprouting height and his growing abundance of hair and his animated facial expressions and his flurry of garbles.

With every visit, it becomes easier to string the sounds that Madara vocalises with meaning. _Black,_ Madara says pointing to his own hair. _White,_ he says as he gestures to Tobirama’s own hair. He picks at his armour. _Red,_ he describes. He gestures to great expanse of the sea around them. _Blue,_ he whispers, awe tinging his word.

The word rings in his head, slotting into place. Finally, he finds a word to pinpoint the calming sea around him.

Tobirama swims in closer, rests his arms on the edges of the boat and raises his tail. Madara seems transfixed at the glimmering scales that blinks back at him. _Blue?_ Tobirama asks, even though not a single muscle on his face twitches.

Feeling the word reverberate in his mind must be a strange experience, but it doesn’t stop Madara from nodding, and repeating the word again. His pale fingers touch the water, before mischief twists his mouth into a smirk and, with a slap of his hand, splashes water on Tobirama.

Tobirama blinks with a measure of incredulity. A measly human splashing a creature of water…with _water_.

Tobirama is not sure if the cretin is courageous or a complete idiot.

Meanwhile, Madara snickers until he curls into himself. He is too busy to notice Tobirama lifting his tail in an ominous gesture of impending vengeance.

A huge body of water crashes into him and Madara yelps, the wave rocking the boat and soaking him through. His soggy fringe blocks his eyesight, so he lifts it up with one petulant hand to glare at Tobirama.

There is a tickle of Tobirama’s chest. Amusement. It’s something he hasn’t felt in such a long time. It’s something he feels often when Madara comes around, and it’s something that draws him closer to the shore, treading until the ground breaks into tiny grains that sifts through his fingers.

One night, Madara visits him with a metal lantern housing a candle inside. Tobirama is immediately drawn to it, transfixed by its glowing beauty.

 _Fire,_ Madara explains to him while showing him the candle. Then Madara puffs his chest, brings his fingers up and breathes through his poised fingers. A ball of red, orange, and yellow dances out before dissipating into the air. _Fire,_ Madara repeats again, this time with pride straightening his shoulders.

Tobirama is breathless, a feeling akin to tasting the lightness of air after hours of breathing in dense water. One word travels round his mind, mixing with the only memory that can turn his heartbeat into rapid thuds. _Dragonborn._

The deep rumble echoes through Madara’s mind, bringing a surge of giddiness through him. Preening under his attention, Madara changes the shape of his fingers. _Watch_ , he says.

This time when Madara breathes, the shape is reminiscent of dragons rising into the sky. The colour of the fire is blue, not like the sea that he buoys in, but like his tail, like the day sky, burning bright and enchanting.  

For once Tobirama feels his tongue drying in want and he aches to lift his finger to touch it.

 

* * *

 

As time flows on, Tobirama begins seeing the colour red as Madara. He begins seeing fire as Madara.

Madara’s visits grow infrequent, his stories grow heavy with an emotion that threatens to sink his boat into the depths of the ocean.

 _War,_ Madara rasps out while burying his face in his hands. _My brothers,_ he sobs out a couple of visits later.  

Tobirama feels a pull to the shore, scanning the surface for a speck of black and red. One day, Madara staggers onto the sea line with no boat in sight. His gait waivers as his feet splashes clumsily and water rises to his waist.

The trail he leaves is red, but not in a way that Tobirama is familiar with.

Tobirama meets him halfway. He swims until the bottom of his tail grinds against the sand shallows, and catches Madara when he falls, wrapping his arms around Madara’s waist to support his limp weight. Madara’s breathing is sluggish, his skin pallid and cold, with none of the usual warmth he emanates. Tobirama glance at one of his hands. Red streaks his fingers.

Madara buries his face into the crook of Tobirama’s neck. _One more time,_ he whispers while his chest heaves and drags his breath. _See you one more time._

Emotions bleed out of Madara’s tone: longing, then fulfilment, then peace. The thumping in his chest grows calmer with every swish of the waves. It drives Tobirama’s own heart into a frenzy.

Madara is strength and perseverance; his love for his brothers as enduring as the koi rising to the top of the Yellow River, his will as tough as the scales adorning a dragon’s body – tough enough to drive a broken body crawling back to Tobirama. Madara is fire and smoke, the heart of the flames that painted the sky red, his warmth rushing and pulsing under every inch of his skin.

He should not be so cold.

Something twists in the coils of his gut. Tobirama tucks Madara close to him, and pulls him deeper into the ocean until the water laps at their necks.

After one hundred years of jumping against the flow of the stream, one koi fish had reached the top of the waterfall, impressing the gods with its resilience and determination. The gods blessed the koi and turned it into the image of power and strength; a golden dragon.

Tobirama knows that there’s magic within the depths of the waters, the same one that suffused life into him and threaded his blue tail piece by piece. The ocean will look upon Madara and admire his vitality. It will admire his soul. The ocean will look upon Madara, and smile, and it will give Madara what he’s due.

The ocean will turn his red fire blue. _Dragonborn._

Tobirama clings to Madara, and dives into the depths of the sea.

 

* * *

 

Ever since he could remember, Izuna was always chasing after Madara. In expectations or in skill, Madara would always run ahead either by the gift of talent or time, and Izuna would muster everything he had not to fall behind. But Madara cares for him. He would grab Izuna’s hand, and tug him along. Together, they would run side by side, and the joy that flooded through Izuna could encompass the mountains that overlook the seas.

It has been months since Izuna chased the trail of blood into the shorelines.

Sitting in his row boat with his red eyes watching the vast body of water, Izuna can’t help but remember the time he fell into the ocean and Madara had plunged after him in all his desperation. Grief rattles Izuna like an earthquake. He used to love watching the sun dip into the waters; he knew Madara did too. Now, sorrow has dulled his admiration for the sea into a feeling of vacancy.

“Where did you go?” Izuna croaks, hollowness in every word. “Why can’t I find you?”

His breathing turns ragged. He rubs the tears out of his eyes, and when he puts his hands down, he jolts backwards, eyes widening in surprise.

He meets the gaze of a white haired mermaid with his alluring beauty, and generous heart. The same one that saved him and Madara all those years ago.

“You!” Izuna gasps. Remembering the years of etiquette beaten into his head, he flushes. “Uh, I’m sorry,” Izuna blunders. “That was rude. I never thanked you for saving me all those years ago – so uhm,” he bites his lips, and pours all the sincerity he can squeeze from his tired body, “thank you.”

The mermaid tilts his head slightly, and Izuna admires the red streaks on his chin and his cheekbones. Then, the mermaid slips closer to his boat, and offers his hand with his palm up.

Confusion runs through Izuna. “So,” he hesitates. “Are we shaking hands…?”

The mermaid stares back unblinking, but expecting.

“Okay,” Izuna decides. Drowning the tiny thread of uncertainty inside of him, he takes the mermaid’s hand and squeezes lightly, expecting a handshake.

Instead, he gets hauled into ocean.

Air whooshes out of him. His eyesight blurs with water. The mermaid tackles his waist downwards, and Izuna can feel pressure building above him.

His lungs squeeze and struggle, but before he can rake his hands down the mermaid’s back to free himself, he feels cold lips pressing into his own. His chest shudders in for a breath, and Izuna doesn’t let go. Channelling chakra into his eyes, his vision sharpens until he can see the mermaid around whose neck he wrapped his arms.

 _What are you doing?!_ He wants to scream, but he’s unwilling to release himself into the darkness. His heart pounds against his ribs.

Then the mermaid’s hold against his waist tightens. That is his only warning before his vision is obstructed by a rush of colour. A long body with red scales and black splotches and spikes travelling across the top. Izuna follows the spikes, turning his head to see red fins, drifting whiskers, slim horns, a fearsome snout and –

Eyes that glints familiarly. Brown eyes so dark, it bleeds into black. Like Madara’s eyes did.

Izuna wheezes out his only supply of air. The mermaid has to grasp his chin, reel him in and inflate his lungs again.

Izuna knows his myths, has memorised them all by heart. After being saved by a mermaid, Izuna knows better than to strike off myths as untrue. For all the stories about dragons, none of them had ever mentioned one that nests within the sea.

The dragon curls his body around Izuna and the mermaid, twisting until the tip of his sharp tail floats in front of Izuna. An image flashes through Izuna, of his brother reaching out to grasp his hand – of Madara reaching out to tug Izuna so they can run with each other, side by side.

With an unsteady hand, Izuna reaches forward, and runs the tip of his fingers down Madara’s tail.

Its solidity wracks a sob out of his chest. Izuna cuts the chakra to his eyes and he can’t tell if it’s weight of water or relief gurgling him. He doesn’t particularly care at this moment.

Closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around the mermaid’s neck, he can tell the exact second the ocean breaks away to the surface. Fighting to fill his lungs with air, Izuna clings to the mermaid like his brother once did, months ago.

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” he chants at the mermaid like a fervent prayer, fist clenched and voice broken. Tears trickle out of his shut eyes to mix with the beads of water on his face. “Thank you for saving my brother.”


End file.
